


coup de foudre

by v3ilfire



Series: keep you away from the down side of me [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: it's the balcony scene, guys.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many more important drafts than this but here you go, more garbage

Cullen only caught himself scowling when Josephine held his eye from across the room and gestured a wide smile across her own demure one, though her eyes said something far less pleasant. The grin he forced across the lower part of his face was a fair attempt but it made little difference in the not-yet-dwindling crowd of flirtatious nobles that had shrouded his presence since his arrival at the Winter Palace. That in combination with the death of an Empress and their ambassador’s staunch insistence that the Inquisition’s upper members could not be the first ones to leave the _somehow_ still on-going party left him in a justifiably sour mood and too close to rolling his eyes for anyone’s comfort.

He was surprised, but no less thankful, to be called away by Varric and dragged promptly into a trophy room outside the ballroom, where Dorian already stood examining some of the more grotesque animal heads protruding from polished plaques.  
“Good to know we’ve put a man on the Orlesian throne that shares our distaste for bears.”  
“... Did you call me here just to gossip about Gaspard’s… bear heads?” Cullen asked, gesturing vaguely. Dorian made a face at the bear, but let Varric take the lead.  
“No, Curly. Believe it or not I want to do you a favor. Now,” he said, and threw up his hands defensively, “I know we weren’t off to the best start in Kirkwall, what with the whole taking Sunshine away to the mage tower and being kind of … well, _who you were_ , but it looks like you’re trying to get your shit together and I can appreciate that. So here’s some unwarranted advice: go ask the pretty elf moping around on the balcony to dance with you.”

Nobody in the room dared move, though at least he notion wiped the frown off of Cullen’s face and replaced it with a look of utter shock. Once again he found himself host to the knot of disappointment that made a nest of his stomach when he’d automatically dismissed said elf’s request that he save her a dance. He couldn’t really see how turning the situation around would be anything less than insulting -- or how either Varric or Dorian knew he’d even consider the thought.

“Hello?” Dorian said, waving a hand in front of Cullen’s face. “Are you still in there or did you ignore Vivienne when she told you not to eat the cheese off the silver trays?”  
“I-I’m sorry I just -- _what_ ?”  
“Oh, blast it all. You know the Inquisitor? The one who you keep making googly eyes at? She is sad and tired and alone and I’ve already tried everything in my vast powers to cheer her up. Sera offered to shoot some ladies’ masks off. Vivienne threatened some ladies into flattering her. Bull brought her a cupcake.”  
“What we’re trying to say here Curly, is that you’re our last resort. Plus, you like her, for some reason she seems to like you, you have the proper lighting and she’s had just enough wine to make you seem charming.”  
Cullen _would_ have been insulted, except, “You think she _likes_ me?”

Dorian looked about to explode, or at least drag a hand down his face if it wouldn’t ruin his mustache. “Well you won’t bloody know unless you go ask her, now will you?”

No, he supposed he wouldn’t.

Which is how Cullen ended up peering through the cracked-open doors to the balcony, staring at the back of a woman who seemed far from the mood to dance. Inquisitor Tevra Lavellan, the hero who sealed the Breach, put a stop to Corypheus’s plans to topple Orlais, and was the talk of the ballroom (if not the entire Empire by now) stood perfectly still hunched over the fine balcony railing. He’d never seen her like that before - for all the times he had no idea where she got her depths of restless energy from, he never realized how jarring a lack of it would be.

He entered without knocking when he felt eyes on the back of his head.  

Tevra tried to muster a smile in his direction but it seemed as weak as the one he offered her, and it quickly became evident that they were both better off staring at the garden.  
“Cupcake?” she offered, and scoot an untouched pastry in his direction. It was pink, frilly, and so small that he could hardly picture it in Bull’s hands.  
“I’m alright, thank you.” A pause. “Are you? Alright, that is.” Her smile looked more like a grimace that time.  
“Just tired. It’s been… a long night.” Of course it had been. Maker, what a _stupid_ question. It had been a long night for all of them, but especially her. She’d done all the legwork and still had to smile in the face of venom in-between. “You didn’t come out here just to mope with me, did you? Even for you that’s a little… sad.”  
“If moping is what gets me away from Orlesians, then yes. Perhaps I did.”

They both somehow managed small smiles when they looked at one another, and once Tevra stood up straight he caught the glimmer of something they’d dusted over her cheeks to make the golden markings on her face stand out. They even swept her hair from her face and into an ornate bun to show off the delicate golden chains they hung along her pointed ear, and not a strand was out of place despite all her climbing and fighting and sneaking about. He would be impressed if not a little terrified of what was holding her together, and both of those emotions paled in comparison to the sheer embarrassment he felt bubble up when she turned and stared _back_ at him.  
“Is there… something on my face?”  
“What? Oh -- no, I just -- I’m not used to seeing you like -- well, like _this_ ,” he said, gesturing vaguely in her direction. There was no amount of wine she could have consumed to make _that_ seem charming.  
“You and me both,” she sighed, but apparently his blunder reminded her that she was uncomfortable in all her regalia and prompted her to unclasp her collar and strip her hands of her gloves. Cullen tried to remind himself that that could have been much, _much_ worse.

Seems that he wasn’t about to learn, though, because as soon as Tevra turned to say something to him again, she was able to follow his wide-eyed stare right to her exposed hand. “What, afraid I’m gonna zap you into the fade?”  
“No, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it without a glove. Is it -- does it hurt?”  
“Well, it doesn’t… _hurt_ ? Do you want to feel it?” Cullen felt himself openly gawking a bit, but luckily was able to reign his face in before she thought to comment.  
“Is that even possible?”  
“Sure,” she shrugged, and held out her hand towards him, palm-up. He’d never _seen_ the Anchor before. It was … odd. Frankly, he’d expected something that resembled a hole in her palm, but what he was faced with seemed more like a parlor trick. The veins that webbed through her hand took on a glow so faint he nearly missed it, until he caught the steady beating of her pulse flaring through.

His hesitation prompted Tevra to guide his hands to hers; first one underneath, for support, and the other so that he could press his fingers to the center of it all. He felt it even before his glove met her skin, just a vague buzzing that got more intense the closer he got. She had been right to say it wasn’t pain exactly; instead it prickled like a limb one had sat on for too long. “Does this ever stop?”  
“Only to cause me grief every now and again, unfortunately.”  
“I can relate,” he muttered, and let her drop her hand back down to her side again. His pains had grown less frequent as of late, but more intense. He grew nervous as to what that meant for him as a member of the Inquisition… though the challenge seemed to pale in comparison to one’s own hand wanting to burn them from the inside out, so he mostly kept that to himself.

While that was usually the gateway to a rather dark train of thought, the swell of music creeping in from the cracked-open doors distracted both of them somewhat, and Cullen remembered why he’d come out onto the balcony in the first place.  
“Would you care to dance?” he blurted out. It was Tevra’s turn to look a bit taken aback.  
“Didn’t you say you didn’t dance?”  
“I promise to be a model student, if you care to teach me.”

He grew to regret his offer only because he’d forgotten that dancing insisted on a certain… proximity that his nerves were not accustomed to. Thankfully Tevra moved too quickly for him to appear as flustered as he felt, so before her knew it she had a hold on one of his hands and set the other on her hip, and she kept a light touch on his shoulder to minimize the buzzing from her mark. He couldn’t imagine _living_ with that, but Maker, she looked so glad for a frivolous distraction that he knew it was best to table any further discussion for a different time. She deserved a moment’s peace.  
“Alright, you’re taller, so you’re going to have to lead. Right foot first,” she said, and tapped his ankle with her boot. “And I’ll… try to channel what Vivienne taught me.”

Their attempt was clumsy at best and incompetent to anyone who was unlucky enough to catch a glimpse. He’d stepped on her foot at least twice and apologized three times as much the second time around, and at some point she was laughing so hard she had to let him go and go lean on the banister to catch her breath. His shame was worth hearing her laugh, though, because when Tevra laughed she glowed in a way that no shimmery compact could ever mimic.

“Alright, alright, let’s uh -- we’ve still got a bit of music left, let’s give that one more try.”  
“I really think we shouldn’t --”  
“No, no, you’ve almost got it! Don’t give up now!” _Almost got it_ was a kindness he didn’t deserve, like many others she’d offered him during their… tumultuous acquaintance, but he took it anyway. He’d gladly spend the rest of the evening fumbling over himself if that meant cheering her up at least a little.

Eventually, Cullen got the hang of the most basic of side-to-side swaying, which was a pretty big improvement upon where he’d started earlier that evening. The unfortunate side-effect of a few uninterrupted minutes of dancing, however, was that he got caught up in the very things Varric intended for the Inquisitor - the music, the lighting, and an enviable level of charm that Tevra possessed and needed no wine whatsoever to make palatable. “I should thank you,” he said, too quickly to appear calm. “For the dance lesson.”  
“The next one’ll cost you five sovereigns, so I wouldn’t get too attached to the idea. Though you are my best pupil.”  
“Aren’t I your only pupil?”  
“For now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll open up a school once I retire.”

Both of them realized what she’d said, but her face showed it far more. _Once I retire_ came with an automatic _if I survive_ that Cullen knew all too well. He wished he had the words to tell her that she wasn’t alone in this, that he was there for her to lean on if she needed it, but words failed him almost as often as his convictions and so, rather foolishly, he tried to kiss her.

The moment was a blur at best and a screeching halt at worst, though he could have _sworn_ he felt the tingle of her mark somewhere near his jaw right before Dorian slammed the door to the balcony wide open and launched them both to the opposite sides of the space.  
“Our Ambassador wanted me to let you both know that we are leaving shortly, and it would be best for the Inquisitor to say her goodbyes in person.”

Tevra made a noise that was probably _supposed_ to be a word but sounded more like a squawk, and then bolted past Dorian into the ballroom. This granted the mage enough time to shake his head in disapproval and then faithfully follow his leader back into the fray, leaving Cullen lightning-struck for a moment longer, his hand absently lingering on the spot on his jaw he thought he felt a brush of fade-magic.

He could have _sworn_.

**Author's Note:**

> "im vividly picturing them penguin dancing like it's sixth grade" - nebulad
> 
> i'm also v3ilfire @ tumblr and if you wanna see them smooch it's [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9156589)


End file.
